


S.P.E.W., Re-visited

by respite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:46:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respite/pseuds/respite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione finds there's some benefit to having a House-Elf around after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	S.P.E.W., Re-visited

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies in advance. Blame the Teachers' Lounge at Fanfiction Dot Net.

I suppose it all started when Harry and Ginny asked me to house-sit Grimmauld Place for them while Harry was accompanying Ginny on her trip with Harpies to Braga. There was nothing unusual in that by itself; things were well on their way towards normalcy between the four of us since Ron and I broke up, and Harry and Ginny (who by this point were truly HarryAndGinny) had no concerns about appearing to favor one or the other of their friends. So, with two nights’ clothes packed, and a note left for my housemate, I apparated to London, and at about half past six, saw my friends off.

Or perhaps it started with Harry’s last words to Kreacher before he left. “Obey Hermione as if she were me.” In any event, they were off, and for the first time in my life, I was quite alone in the rather intimidating, cavernous Camden townhouse that I’d first come to know as Headquarters.

The quiet was relaxing, at first. I’d brought a few books and a bit of work from the office, and I settled in nicely in the first floor library. And – no, that’s where it started. In that draughty library.

“Kreacher?” I called.

“Yes, Mistress?” he replied.

Yes, right there. That’s where it all began. Since I was a schoolgirl, the thought of one sentient being owning another was simply repulsive. And, until I’d spent some time around House Elves, I really thought that what their race needed was saving. Liberation. Freedom. But I’d come to find out that House Elves really are just that, and they get a fulfillment from doing their masters’ bidding that I could simply not fathom. Still, the thought of having a House Elf of my own was disconcerting, to say the least. Until that moment right there.

Mistress.

“Kreacher,” I said, calmly and plainly. “It’s awfully draughty up here. Would you mind fetching me something to put on my legs?”

“Of course, Mistress. Right away,” he replied, and popped away. Before I could wipe the sly grin off of my face, he was back with an afghan, and gingerly wrapped it around my legs.

“Is that being all, Mistress?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. Yes of course. Thank you, Kreacher,” I replied, after taking a moment to recover from the shock of the whole thing. My heart was racing, and I was a little flush. There was so much – I suppose power is the best word for it – in that one request, and it had me rather flustered. I returned to my work, concentrating as best I could. It was slow going, though, and I found myself wondering what else I could ask for.

“Kreacher,” I called again. And again, it was no more than a half-second before he was standing by my chair, waiting for instruction.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“I think I would like some tea. Please bring me a pot of tea, Kreacher.”

“Right away, Mistress.” And again, no more than a moment or two later, he appeared with a pot of tea, a cup and saucer, milk and sugar. This time I could not hold my wicked smile in.

Kreacher popped away again, and I poured the tea. To my disappointment, I saw that what I’d thought was milk was, in fact, half-and-half.

“Kreacher?” Without hesitation, he appeared again.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Kreacher, I take milk in my tea, not half-and-half. Pour this out, and fetch me some milk and another cup.”

I shocked myself with the stern tone I’d taken with Kreacher, but as the elf lowered his eyes, it was all I could do to suppress a moan. He popped away, and six seconds later was back with a fresh cup and a small pitcher of milk. He poured the tea for me, and added just the right amount of milk, without my asking.

“Kreacher is sorry about the tea, Mistress. Master Harry and Mistress Ginny do not like Kreacher to punish himself. Mistress is different, though. Would Mistress be liking Kreacher to punish himself?”

For a brief moment, I thought I saw a toothy smile. My breath hitched. I was becoming aroused – quite aroused. And more than anything I wanted to say ‘Yes. Yes, Kreacher, punish yourself.’ But, at least for that moment, I was able to curb my baser nature.

“Not right now.” I said, trying to maintain a stern disposition as my throat cracked.

“Very good, Mistress. Please be calling Kreacher if you need anything more.”

Work was, of course, out of the question by that point. I pulled out one of the trashier of the novels I’d brought, and lost myself in ‘Ian’s piercing gaze’ and ‘Debbie’s soft surrender’ and for a while, I was sufficiently distracted. Two hours later, however, the book was done, and it was time for bed.

“Kreacher,” I called.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Kreacher, which room am I taking while I’m here?”

“Kreacher will be showing Mistress to her room now. If Mistress will please be following?”

The room, like all other rooms in the house, looked like something out of a Bella Lugosi film, but one could see how Ginny had tried her best to make it look at least hospitable. I stopped at the bed. It was lovely; filled with decorative pillows and a delightfully floral quilt. I knew I shouldn’t, but looking at that bed, and looking at Kreacher, I couldn’t help myself.

“Kreacher?”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Kreacher, I would like you to turn down the bed every night at precisely nine pm. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress. Kreacher will be turning it down for you now. Would you like Kreacher to be putting Mistress’s clothes away afterwards?”

“Yes, Kreacher.”

Sleep was hard to come by. Work the following day was worse. I was absolutely useless; completely distracted, and unable to get the image of that little green elf taking my orders out of my mind. It was crazy – I was raised better than that. Good girls from good Cheltenham families didn’t go about wanting to paddle the bottoms of house elves until…

Where had that thought come from?

I made some excuse or other - being a war heroine does have its perks, sometimes – and flooed back to Grimmauld Place.

“Kreacher?” I called as soon as I exited the floo.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Kreacher, I need a bottle of mead, please.”

“Master Harry and Mistress Ginny don’t –”

“Did I ask what Master Harry and Mistress Ginny keep in the house, Kreacher?” I hissed. “No. I said I want some mead.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Kreacher replied, and it was a full two minutes before he returned with the honey wine. I retired to the sitting room, and he poured me a goblet full. When I’d drank that down, I silently held my empty glass in his direction, and he refilled it for me. Two hours later, I’d finished that bottle, and a second, forgetting exactly how potent Wizarding mead can be. Lightheaded, I stumbled up to my room, and flopped down onto the bed.

“Kreacher?”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Undress me.”

Kreacher nodded, snapped his fingers, and my clothes and brassiere were neatly folded in a pile on the dresser, and they had been replaced by my nightgown. 

“I didn’t say to banish my clothes to the corner, I said to undress me. You didn’t follow instructions, Kreacher. Do you know what happens to house elves that don’t follow instructions?”

“They is getting punished, Mistress?”

“Yes, they get punished. Find me a paddle, Kreacher. I want to make sure this, at least, is done right.”

He was very quick about coming back with a good, hard rubber paddle. I sat up on the edge of the bed, and motioned for him to lie face down over my knees. I lifted the tea towel over his arse, and brought the paddle down with a satisfying smack. Kreacher flinched silently, and I brought the paddle down again. And again. And fifteen or twenty times more, alternating left and right, until the little elf began to mewl in pain. My heart was pounding out of my chest, my knickers felt as though they’d been soaked through, and I needed to climb into that bed and take care of that right away.

“Will that be all, Mistress?”

“Have you learnt your lesson?” I asked as stoically as I could, under the circumstances.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied.

“Very well, then get out of my sight. I’ll require hangover potions in the morning.”

In addition to the hangover potions, Kreacher brought a pot of tea and a copy of the Daily Planet to my bedside on a tray. He had called the office for me, informing them that I wasn't feeling well, and that I hoped to be back to normal the following day.

Harry and Ginny returned that evening, and Kreacher served a lovely supper for the three of us, before I packed my things and headed back to Bristol. Kreacher brought my bag downstairs as I was leaving.

“She didn't work you too hard, did she, Kreacher?” Harry asked.

“No, Master Harry,” Kreacher replied. “Mistress is being very good to old Kreacher. Very good.”

That was four months ago, and I haven’t been able to get those two days out of my mind. Obviously, I’m not going to go and buy a house elf – the very idea of purchasing a sentient being is still nauseating. However, I've learned that in the world of Magic, anything’s possible.

“Draco,” I called.

“Yes, Mistress?” Draco answered.

“Draco, I told you I take half and half in my tea, not milk. Am I going to have to tighten that collar around your neck again?”

“No, Mistress.”

“See that I don’t.”


End file.
